After what can only be described as the coldest, iciest, most hideous winter of all time (which by the way, is how I describe every winter), last weekend, we finally had 48 hours filled with warmish temperatures AND sunshine. I feared it was a sign that the end of the world was coming, since warm and sunshine in PA rarely occur on the same day, so in between my soaking up a little Vitamin D (with SPF 50 of course) and swinging with my daughter on the playground, I kept my eye out for a plague of locusts. Fortunately, no locusts unearthed themselves after such a cold winter, but, what did pop up out of the ground with the return of warmth and sunshine, were beautiful flowers. Yes, the flowers were blooming everywhere which meant the bees were a buzzing. Even though I did plenty of research, and discovered that swarms of bees do not appear anywhere on Google as a sign of the apocalypse, there was still no convincing Ryan of this pertinent information as he remained inside the house building his arc.... and waiting.

To say that Ryan is a little afraid of bees, would be like saying The Book of Revelation being read to school age children, long before a child is ready to hear such horrific doomsday predictions, may cause a child to need a little bit of therapy. We all have things we are afraid of...bees, snakes, clowns, a clown holding a snake...which would be my own version of Hell. AWEnestly, if there is a Purgatory and I'm stuck there, chances are I will be stuck next to a snake handling clown. Curse my college years sins. Some things we fear are utterly ridiculous...I mean besides the creepy murdering clown from Stephen King's It movie, most clowns may be a little disturbing, but they should not keep me from going to the circus, but they do. When you think about Stephen King's somewhat demented imagination that enables him to come up with such creepy, freaky books, that include a possessed car, a demonic clown, a pig blood soaked prom queen, and un-dead pets, Stephen King is who should haunt my nightmares, not some sad, hiding behind his makeup, creepy faced clown!

I'm old enough now to recognize some of my fears as being irrational, but that still doesn't make me any less afraid. Once, a small garter snake was coming at me, slithering at an extraordinarily high rate of speed, fangs showing, looking for blood (at least that's how I remember it) and although I would throw myself in front of a train for my daughter, clearly I will not throw myself in front of what I feared was a deadly, poisonous, garter snake. In fact, I will run in the opposite direction and leave my two year old daughter in my dust without a second glance backward until I'm safely in the house while my innocent toddler stands transfixed in the yard wondering how Mommy could possibly run so fast. Wrong? Yes. Sorry? Yes. Would I do it all again? Yes...unless of course there was the slightest possibility that a clown was lying in wait for me inside the house.

Ryan's fear of springtime flowers, which draw deadly, stinging bees, is no less extreme than my snake/clown phobia. No matter how many times I have explained the beauty of flowers and the sweet nectar that draws the bees in, Ryan does not see the beauty of a daffodil or an azalea bush, he sees pollen sucking deadly bees, horrifically swollen bee stings and sticky antiseptic followed by the suggestion of (shudder) a band aid. Just like Ryan's fear of bees blocks his ability to see the beauty in flowers, and my fear of clowns blocks my ability to see the beauty in a child's smile at the circus, people's fear of "different" may block their ability to see the beauty in a child who does not look or act the same as others. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. The phrase, "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" means that each person sees beauty in a different fashion. In other words, different people have different ideas about what is beautiful.

For years my friends Denial and Clueless tried to make me miss out on Ryan's beauty. They tried to convince me that wearing the cool clothes, having the cool haircut, wearing the cool sneakers and acting like every other kid on the playground is what would make Ryan beautiful. The sometimes odd facial grimaces, the weird noises, and the repeated scripting, Denial said, was not beautiful, and others would not find beauty in such obvious differences either. So, just like the creepy clowns at the circus, who hide who they really are behind makeup and clothes, I tried to camouflage my boy and his differences, by making him someone he was not, because unlike the circus clowns, I did not want people pointing and laughing at my son.

Denial made me feel like I was doing the right thing when people would see Ryan, dressed in the "clown suit" clothes that were really not him, and say, "Look how beautiful he is!". Denial also assured me that making Ryan participate in all the same activities the other kids did, like baseball and soccer, would make Ryan look less "different", regardless of the fact that Ryan looked like a charging bull running down the baseline due to the awful feeling of the batting helmet. Denial's assurance that everyone would see past Ryan's difference and see his beauty if I tried to make him look and act more like everyone else, blinded me to how difficult being "beautiful" had become for Ryan.

In fact, Denial had me so convinced, that I saw right past the stretched out shirt collars, the constant tugging at the hard, stiff denim jeans and the non-stop pulling of the low cut socks that would never reach his knees no matter how hard Ryan pulled. The irony was, Ryan was more beautiful in his unstylish fleece pants, his collar-less 100% cotton tshirts and his high white socks, happily scripting away while playing his latest video game because he was no longer wearing the clown makeup, hiding who he really was underneath, just so others would see their version of beautiful. It's a shame it took this beholder so long to finally see Ryan's beauty.

Now that I can see Ryan's beauty, I am dumbfounded that others can't.

I see the beauty in a smart, funny, little boy transforming into a handsome young man.

I see the beauty in a boy's ability to memorize and mimic everything from the microwave beep to Jim Carey's version of The Grinch.

I see the beauty in Ryan's unique and often hilarious way of interpreting our strange and crazy world.

I see the beauty in a boy whose confidence in his musical ability makes him stand apart from his athletic brother and sister.

I see the beauty in a boy who may struggle socially, but, has found happiness in the absence of being a part of "the crowd".

I see the beauty in a boy who has given me the gift of seeing the world through a very different lens and his willingness to share that world with me, even when I didn't deserve it.

I see the beauty in a boy who has loved his mother through her own phobias, fears, and poor choice of "friends", while still forgiving that mother for the times she was once blind to his unique beauty.

Even though I finally mustered up the courage to tell Denial she was wrong about the beauty of "different", she still comes around every now and then and suggests that Ryan wear the high black socks that are "in" versus the high white socks that he prefers. Most days, I slam the door in her face, but, I have my weak moments. Unfortunately, I still come across people who have many weak moments and who are still blind to the beauty of "different". I don't get angry with this people, because after all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but, I do feel sad for them. To miss such beauty because what they see is so different from what I see, is not something to judge, it's not something to be angry about, it's just something that these blind beholders will miss out on, just like I miss out on the circus....every....single....year.

How we see and what we see as beautiful varies from person to person. To Barnum and Bailey, a clown is not something to be feared, but, a clown is a thing of beauty because for most people (those without strange clown phobias), clowns equal laughter and laughter equals "ca-ching". To a beekeeper, springtime flowers are not something that is equated to deadly bee stings, but, the beauty of these flowers equals busy, honey producing bees. To a mother, a boy, who has finally grown comfortable in his own skin by being just who he is, regardless if others find him beautiful or not, is hands down the most beautiful sight a mother could every lay eyes on. For Ryan, beauty is in the eye of the BEEholder and chances are, he may never see the beauty in flowers or bees, just like I will never, ever, ever for the rest of my life and not even in Purgatory, find anything remotely beautiful about a clown, but, the two of us together will continue to help others see the beauty of "different", just not at a flower show or at a circus.

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Definition of Awe:"a mixed emotion of reverence, respect, dread and wonder inspired by authority, genius, great beauty, sublimity or might." Yep, someone should have consulted a mom before spelling AWEtis﻿m.